


Doctor Knows Best

by sumhowe_sailing



Category: Sumhowe
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:45:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumhowe_sailing/pseuds/sumhowe_sailing
Summary: Charles seems out of sorts. Sam is worried.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so bad at titles, I'm sorry.

“Goodnight Charlie, sleep well.”

“You say that as if we won’t be talking still two hours from now.”

“You really should get _some_ sleep tonight.”

“I’m sure I shall, but not yet. We still have so much to say.”

Instead of answering, Sam laid his hand on his friend’s shoulder and pushed him lightly toward the door separating their rooms. For himself, he would not have minded Charlie staying in the room while he undressed, but he knew Charlie’s modesty. And if they were to talk all night long, he also would not mind if they didn’t have to speak to each other through the open door. Surely they could just bring an extra bed into Sam’s room. Or if they could not, the one that was there might be big enough for both of them. It would at least be more practical, he told himself again. They both prepared for bed in near silence. Sam wondered why it was that conversation paused only for this—was it too intimate? Was Charles too distracted to talk? _Nonsense_ , Sam realized, Charles was never too distracted to talk. Why then?

“By the by, Chev, have you heard what Sam Ward has been up to lately?”

“Still in Paraguay, I imagine?” and so the conversation resumed. They dwelled on Ward for a few minutes before moving on to other globe-trotting adventurers, which ended as it always did, with Sam telling Charles old stories from Greece and Prussia. As he came to the end of one, he paused to listen. Charles did not jump in to fill the gap—he must be sleeping then. _And a good thing, too._ Sam rolled onto his side and waited for sleep to take him, but this night it simply would not come. He was worried about his friend in the next room. He had seemed so…distressed lately. Perhaps that was not the word—depressed perhaps? Sam could not put his finger on it, but he knew that something with his dear alter ego was not quite right. Not for the first time, he wondered if it was a physical ailment. The way Charles worked himself, the only wonder was that he was not ill more often. He had offered, more than once, to examine him, but Charles would not allow it. Whether from embarrassment, stubborn pride, or denial, Sam could not be sure. _He cannot refuse now if he is asleep._ Sam tried to check the train of thought. It would be invading his privacy, going directly against Charlie’s wishes—but if it was a matter of his health? If it was all for the best? But what if he woke him? _Just a peek._

He crept into the next room as quietly as he could, pausing at each step to listen for a change in breathing, to make sure he had not woken Charles. When he was beside the bed, he kneeled gently, trying to make out his friend’s face in the darkness. His thick hair was even more disorderly than usual as it swept over his brow and spilled across the pillow. The hard lines of determination that marked his features in the daylight had all but disappeared, and his sweet smile was clear even in the dim room. A great wave of tenderness washed over him looking at Charlie just now, so at peace with the world. Perhaps it was the wine still in his system, perhaps it was his memories of Greece so recently stirred—the ones he had not been able to tell anyone—or perhaps it was inevitable, a simple moment causing him to finally realize what he ought to have known all along. He smoothed the hair away from Charlie’s forehead, and leant down to kiss it. Instead of satisfying his whim, this innocent act made it keener. Convinced that Charles was still sleeping, Sam laid his lips gingerly upon that smile he had adored for so long. And still he was not satisfied. Afraid of what he would do if he stayed here a moment longer, Sam stood as quickly as he dared and headed for the door.

“Don’t go.” There was not even a trace of drowsiness in the plea. “Chev?”

“You’re awake?”

“I am.”

“The whole time?”

“The whole time.” There was nothing of reproach or scorn in Charlie’s voice. No pity, either, which would have been far worse. It might even have been longing. Sam quickly returned to where he had been kneeling before.

“Kiss me again.” He was only too happy to comply. It was timid, bashful, but Charles was still smiling.

“You know,” Sam began, pulling away, “I’ve been wondering why we ever bothered to use separate rooms.”

Taking his meaning, Charles repositioned himself on the bed, making room for Sam, who climbed in eagerly. He kissed him again—and again—and again. Alternating a hungry pressure with a mild tenderness, trying to take his cues from Charles when to stop and when he might start again. When at last he remembered that Charles needed rest, he drew back. Charles shifted his hand from cupping the back of Sam’s neck to tangling his fingers in his hair, pulling his face closer again in the process. They lay in silence, foreheads pressed together, perfectly content. Sam heard Charles begin to snore softly only moments before he felt himself finally fall into a dreamless sleep.


End file.
